The Extremely Inconvenient Adventures of Bronte Mettlestone

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The Extremely Inconvenient Adventures of Bronte Mettlestone Page 10

by Jaclyn Moriarty


  And inside the tub, Cyphus’s brother lay perfectly still, eyes closed, skin like a sheet of paper that somebody had scribbled on, over and over, with angry black lines.

  Barnabas saw me, and shook his head sadly.

  I opened the vial, stepped forward, and tipped the whole thing into the tub.

  The water fizzed faintly.

  Sugar Rixel looked up at me, puzzled.

  The fizzing grew. It crept across the surface of the tub. It picked up speed and swept across the surface.

  The bathtub fizzed! It bubbled and foamed!

  ‘What’s happening?’ Aunt Emma cried.

  ‘Yes,’ said a voice. ‘What is happening?’ And the dark-haired water sprite sat up in the tub, in a great wash of froth and bubbles.

  After that, we had a celebration afternoon tea.

  Well, first everybody shouted with amazement, and asked the water sprite, Serfpio, if he was all right? He said, yes, perfectly all right, thank you.

  ‘But are you alive?’ Aunt Emma cried.

  And he said patiently that he doubted he would be perfectly all right if he were not alive, so there was that. Aunt Emma agreed that there was that, and she half-fell into the bath, hugging him and sobbing.

  He still looked dreadful, though. When Aunt Emma sat back again, sudsy water dripping everywhere, we could see the web of black cracks covering his face.

  ‘More!’ Cyphus cried. ‘Everyone! Toss this fine and bubbled water all over my brother!’

  So we did. It was like a water fight where everybody has decided to gang up on one person, and that person is being a good sport about it. Serfpio sat back laughing as we threw the fizzling bathwater over his face and neck, his arms and toes. Slowly, the cracks faded to smoothness.

  Now everybody wanted to know just what I had put into the tub?

  I told them the story, and they all hugged me madly, Aunt Emma most of all. She also cried, ‘Welcome to Lantern Island, dear, dear niece!’ and ‘Oh, you are like your father! I loved him so much! I have not stopped weeping about your parents, dear child. I love you most of anybody in the world!’

  Then Detective Riley said, ‘We must have a celebration afternoon tea!’ and I asked, ‘May I invite somebody?’ They looked puzzled but agreed, so I ran to the library and invited the librarian. I told her what had happened and she was pleased. She left a sign saying, ‘Back soon! Make yourselves at home!’ and we ran to the station together.

  ‘Look,’ I said, ‘this is the person who actually saved Serfpio!’ Everybody praised her research skills.

  And then we had the celebration afternoon tea.

  The water sprite brothers splashed about in the oak barrels and Detective Riley dragged chairs into a circle around the low table. He set out the pastries and peach tarts he’d bought earlier.

  ‘I never thought we’d be eating these!’ he told us cheerfully. ‘I was at the bakery and I thought to myself: This is a total waste of money. He’s never going to make it. That bothered me a bit,’ he admitted. ‘I don’t like waste. But here we are!’

  We all talked fast, with bright eyes, the way people do when a catastrophe turns out well.

  Aunt Emma and Serfpio told us how they had met in the sea, when Emma was bathing under moonlight one night. After that, they had swum together often, talking of their art and their favourite foods and exchanging poetry, and all the time sinking slowly into love, until they loved each other most of anybody in the world.

  One night, while they were swimming and chatting, Aunt Emma had mentioned her friend Sugar Rixel, and told Serfpio about Sugar’s pepper grinder. Emma wondered if Serfpio knew the water sprite who’d given it to her? His name was Cyphus? Then Serfpio roared that Cyphus was his brother!

  The roaring confused Emma, as it struck her as a lovely coincidence that the two water sprites she and Sugar knew were brothers.

  But Serfpio told her he’d been lurking around this island ever since his swordfight with his brother, wondering what Cyphus had done with the pepper grinder, which is how she had happened to meet him. They had a small tiff then as Emma said, ‘I thought you came here every night to see me!’ and he said, ‘Well, to see you and to keep an eye out for the pepper grinder,’ and Emma was upset. He assured her that he loved her more than all the pepper grinders in the world, so she was happy.

  However, now that he knew where the grinder was, he continued, he must get it back! Would Emma please get it for him? Maybe when her friend Sugar was facing the other way, she could slip it under her shirt and run out?

  Emma became wretched, wishing she had never opened her big mouth about Sugar’s pepper grinder. But Serfpio said no, no, we should tell each other everything, for that is what lovers do, without restraint. So Emma told him, without restraint, that she was sorry he had lost his pepper grinder, but that Sugar Rixel was a great friend of hers, and she could never steal from a great friend.

  ‘How loyal you are!’ Sugar Rixel cried, throwing her arms around Aunt Emma. ‘I love you most of anyone in the world!’

  ‘I love you most, too,’ Emma agreed.

  I thought this was interesting, as I was sure Emma had just said she loved Serfpio most, and back in the bathroom, she had definitely told me she loved me most. But nobody else commented, so I let it go.

  ‘So I stole it myself!’ Serfpio declared. ‘I rolled myself in water-logged bandages and ran up from the ocean and took it! Sorry about that, Sugar Rixel,’ he added humbly.

  Sugar Rixel said she understood.

  ‘I had no idea that Emma would be blamed,’ Serfpio went on. ‘Or I’d never have taken it! She hasn’t been in the moonlit sea these last few days, but I thought she must have a cold! Or maybe that she was angry with me for our little disagreement, and that time would cool her down. Then my brother swam by the gallery today and bellowed something about, You have stolen the pepper grinder! And an innocent woman named Aunt Emma is now in prison! I came as fast as I could. I didn’t even stop to wrap myself in water-soaked bandaging.’

  Barnabas frowned. ‘Didn’t you realise you’d get the Dehydration and die?’

  ‘Of course I did,’ Serfpio replied. ‘But the only thing that mattered was rescuing my Emma.’

  We all smiled gently, thinking about the greatness of love and sacrifice.

  ‘But Emma?’ Barnabas said next. ‘Why did you confess?’

  ‘I had to,’ Emma said simply. ‘I knew at once that Serfpio must have done it. I myself was on Ringtail Island with the Fruits of the Forest Club the day of the robbery, and I knew that Detective Riley would eventually hear that and realise I was innocent. Next thing you know, Serfpio would have been arrested and locked away, which surely would have killed him! I could never allow that! So I confessed.’

  We sighed, thinking once again about the greatness of love and sacrifice.

  Detective Riley announced that he would now charge Serfpio with the theft of the pepper grinder, and that Serfpio would certainly be given fifteen years, if not more, and he stood up ready to get his codes.

  This took the mood down a little.

  ‘But the pepper grinder belongs to Serfpio!’ Cyphus declared from inside the water barrel. ‘So surely there is no crime!’

  ‘Belongs to me?’ Serfpio’s head popped up over the side of his barrel.

  ‘Yes, dear brother,’ Cyphus said in the same warm tone. ‘Enough of this terrible feud. The grinder is yours.’

  Detective Riley sat down again, disappointed, but he took it in good grace.

  Now Sugar Rixel threw her arms around Cyphus and said, ‘Oh, I’m so proud of you, dear Cyphus! You are such a good sort!’ and everybody agreed that Cyphus was a good sort.

  After a moment, Serfpio announced that, ‘No, you won that game of Capture the Flag, Cyphus, fair and square. You did tip me. The pepper grinder is yours.’

  ‘Mine?’ said Cyphus.

  ‘Yours,’ he agreed.

  ‘Well,’ began Detective Riley, standing up again. ‘In that case, it doesn�
�t belong to Serfpio, so Serfpio did steal it, so—’

  But here the librarian bellowed, ‘Oh, hush, Detective Riley,’ and he did.

  Aunt Emma pointed out that the pepper grinder actually belonged to Sugar Rixel now, as it had been given to her as a gift.

  Sugar Rixel said, ‘Well, I didn’t like to say anything, but this is true.’

  Serfpio considered and said, ‘You are quite right.’

  Then Sugar Rixel suggested that she could share the pepper grinder with Aunt Emma, and they could take turns with it, what did everybody think?

  Everybody thought that was brilliant. Cyphus said he was happy that the pepper grinder would be with his greatest love, Sugar Rixel, part of the time, and Serfpio said that he was happy it would be with his greatest love, Emma Mettlestone, the other part.

  Once we had finished our afternoon tea, Detective Riley said that he’d better lock Emma up again.

  This was startling. The Detective explained that he could not possibly release her without an order from the circuit judge. He was confident that he would get such an order, but not until the circuit judge was back on the island in a month. And so, come along, Emma, let’s go.

  There was an uproar and Detective Riley burst out laughing and said he was joking. He would just make a call, he explained, to get an ex parte order of release, and it would only take a minute. He went off to make the call. Everybody was stern with him when he returned, and told him that it wasn’t funny, that sort of a joke, especially coming from him, as usually he meant it. Yes, he said, usually I do. He smiled proudly, taking no notice of the scolding.

  Then Emma sighed and said, ‘Oh, I can’t wait to get back to my cottage!’ and Detective Riley’s proud smile faltered.

  ‘Oh,’ he said. ‘Your cottage.’

  I said, ‘It’s all right. I cleaned it up last night.’

  Detective Riley swung around and looked at me.

  ‘You cleaned up the cottage?’

  I nodded.

  Detective Riley put his hands behind his back and studied me.

  ‘How old are you?’ he barked suddenly.

  ‘Ten,’ I squeaked. I cleared my throat. ‘Ten.’

  His face was now fierce. ‘Bronte Mettlestone,’ he said. ‘I am not a man who often gets things wrong.’

  ‘Pssht,’ said Sugar Rixel, and the others giggled.

  Detective Riley ignored them. ‘Nor,’ he said, ‘do I like to admit it when I get a thing wrong.’

  ‘Oh, well, that part’s true,’ Sugar Rixel said, and there were more snickers.

  Detective Riley blinked but did not look away from me. ‘It seems to me,’ he said, ‘that I’ve been making a giant mess of this case. In more ways than one. And it seems to me that you, Bronte Mettlestone, have been running around cleaning up the mess. Would that be fair to say?’

  I wasn’t sure how he wanted me to respond, so I just sort of shrugged.

  ‘It would,’ he confirmed, answering for me. ‘In fact, it would be fair to say, Bronte Mettlestone, that you are the finest ten-year-old ever to set foot on Lantern Island.’ He leaned towards me, still frowning. ‘Thank you, Bronte Mettlestone,’ he said. ‘May I shake your hand?’

  ‘All right,’ I said, and we shook hands.

  Two days later, I was standing on the wharf again, my suitcase beside me. Barnabas was fishing, Aunt Emma was chatting, and the ferry was approaching.

  I wished it would not come so quickly.

  In the last two days, Aunt Emma and I had rowed her boat all around the bay. We had swum with the water sprites at midnight. We’d visited the librarian and read stories to each other, sitting on giant stuffed caterpillars in the new Children’s Section.

  I had given Emma the pebbles from the roots of the flowering movay trees on Gainsleigh Harbour, and she’d shown me how to crush them. She’d painted a portrait of me, let it dry in the sun and wind, then rolled it up, and taken it to the post office to mail to Aunt Isabelle.

  ‘Isabelle will be missing you so much, dear child,’ she told me. ‘Hopefully this portrait will cheer her up a little.’

  I hadn’t really thought of Aunt Isabelle missing me. It was an interesting idea. I bought a postcard with a picture of Lantern Island on it, and wrote to Aunt Isabelle and the Butler that I was having a splendid time. There was no need to tell them that Aunt Emma had been in prison when I arrived, I thought. Aunt Emma agreed.

  ‘Isabelle is a worrier,’ she said. ‘Now your parents, they were different. Always loved adventure. You know, they probably wanted you to have adventures, too? I expect that’s why they used the Faery cross-stitch. So that Isabelle would have to let you come on this journey. She’d never have allowed it otherwise.’

  That was an even more interesting idea. It made me tilt my head.

  While we were chatting, the postmistress was bringing out a stack of mail that she’d been holding for Aunt Emma. We sat on a bench and ate ice-cream cones while Aunt Emma opened letters.

  There were mostly bills, and Emma put these aside ‘to throw away’. But then there was a telegram—‘I wasn’t allowed to give that to you in prison,’ the postmistress called apologetically. It was from Aunt Alys, the same one she’d sent to Aunt Sue about pirates wanting to capture Prince William.

  ‘I don’t know what she should do about that!’ Aunt Emma complained.

  ‘That’s exactly what Aunt Sue said when she got the telegram!’ I said. In the end, Emma decided to send a pocket-sized painting of a frog to Aunt Alys to cheer her up, along with a note that said:

  The final item was an invitation from Aunt Franny:

  Aunt Emma’s hands trembled as she held the invitation, then her shoulders shook and she was sobbing. I patted her back until she stopped.

  ‘Darling child,’ Aunt Emma said. ‘Your wonderful, adventurous parents! At least we still have you. I’m counting the days until I see you again in Nina Bay.’

  ‘So you are coming to the party?’

  ‘Of course! I would not miss a celebration of your darling parents, darling. Besides, I’ve never visited Franny since she moved to Nina Bay, and it’s a thrilling area. Dragons, pirates, and any number of Dark Mages and criminal sorts. There’s a small Empire of Witchcraft nearby, and a colony of radish gnomes. Why, the Whispering Kingdom’s only an hour away.’

  I widened my eyes at her. ‘Whyever would Aunt Franny have moved to such a dangerous place?’

  ‘Oh, she was always one of the edgier sisters. Needs excitement, see?’

  My head was racing. ‘My grandfather lives near Nina Bay,’ I said. ‘Outside Colchester. No wonder Aunt Isabelle has never allowed me to visit him!’

  ‘Colchester’s pretty placid,’ Aunt Emma said. ‘But yes, I don’t blame Isabelle. It’s only five years ago that the Whispering Kingdom was properly spellbound—with the Majestic Spellbinding.’

  ‘Majestic Spellbinding?’

  ‘Done by Carabella-the-Great. She’s the most powerful Spellbinder ever, apparently. Before she bound the Whispering Kingdom, the bindings were mediocre. Torn bits, ragged edges. You never knew when a Whisperer might slip out and steal a child.’

  A shiver ran down my spine, but then Aunt Emma leapt to her feet and proposed a picnic on Tuttlecock Island.

  Now I could see Tuttlecock Island across the bay, the ferry rounding it and growing larger. Aunt Emma began to cry again, saying she would never let me go.

  There was a shout, and Sugar Rixel came rushing down the stairs. She held a book in one hand and waved it in the air. ‘Almost forgot!’ she bellowed. Barnabas looked up at her, blinked, and turned back to his line.

  ‘I wanted to give you this!’ she puffed, staggering onto the wharf. ‘I’ve never run so fast! It’s one of my father’s magical books. If you’re ever at a loss for words, you just shake it!’

  ‘That is very kind,’ I said. ‘But I cannot accept it. It is special to you.’

  Aunt Emma laughed. ‘That’s exactly what Isabelle used to tell me to say. I suggest yo
u ignore exactly half of what Isabelle has taught you.’

  ‘Agreed,’ Sugar Rixel said, and she pressed the book into my hands. ‘The point is, you’re special to me, Bronte! You saved me from a life of painting daisies.’

  I thanked Sugar Rixel, and pointed out that there was only one daisy painting I’d saved her from, not a lifetime. Sugar Rixel said, ‘Pssht, let me have my exaggerations.’

  The ferry bobbed shyly towards us, lining itself up with the dock. I opened my suitcase, slipped in the book and took out the treasure chest.

  The ferryman was dragging out a gangplank. ‘Oi,’ he said. ‘No time for packing now. We’re on a schedule.’

  But so was I. At the ferry docks, it said, give the gift to Emma. And my schedule was Faery cross-stitched.

  I handed Emma her gift. Barnabas called to the ferryman, ‘Carp biting your way lately?’ and the ferryman said, ‘Nah. But I heard around at Seracuse Bay …’ and their conversation continued. Fish and where to catch them. Sugar Rixel joined in. I think they were distracting the ferryman to give us time.

  Emma opened the gift.

  She became very still.

  A strange expression crossed her face.

  ‘What is it?’ I asked.

  She gave me a quick smile, and looked back at the gift. ‘Cinnamon,’ she whispered. ‘It’s a little jar of cinnamon.’

  ‘Is that … not a good thing?’ Aunt Emma crouched beside me. ‘I was a girl about your age,’ she murmured, speaking quickly, her eyes bright. ‘And my brother—your father—was eight.’ She paused again. ‘We stole a great sack of cinnamon together from a warehouse down by Gainsleigh Harbour. He scrambled up the wall and into a tiny window—he was such a climber, Patrick! And he opened a latch for me to get in, and we took the cinnamon between us and ran home. We were so excited! We’d made it! Only, we left a trail of cinnamon behind us all the way. So it was a simple matter for the police to find us. We got in so much trouble! Everyone was going to the opera that night and we had to stay home as our punishment.’

  She smiled at me. ‘It was wonderful! We hated the opera, Patrick and I. We laughed the whole night long, and ate sweets from the back of the pantry. And we had tipped out enough cinnamon from the sack before they caught us to …’ She looked at the cinnamon jar in her hand. Her words became so quiet now I had to press close to hear her. ‘We wanted the cinnamon to colour my painting of a bear,’ she whispered. ‘Patrick always loved my paintings of bears.’

 

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